


back again, I never should have left

by hikari (sincerelysame)



Category: Haikyuu!!, ハイパープロジェクション演劇「ハイキュー!!」| Hyper Projection Play "Haikyuu!!" RPF
Genre: Alpha Bokuto Koutarou, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Mates, Misunderstandings, Omega Akaashi Keiji, Pining, Post-Graduation, Rutting, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-02 17:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16791451
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelysame/pseuds/hikari
Summary: Akaashi Keiji is not stupid.But Akaashi had given him a key and that was very, very stupid.





	1. Coming Back

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Be Upon You by the Moonlight's Side](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16416488) by [CharWright5](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5). 



> Share your headcanons with me on Tumblr. I've got too many.

Akaashi Keiji is not stupid.

But Akaashi had given him a key and that was very, very stupid.

Granted, Akaashi doesn't know it was stupid. On the surface, it's actually a very smart thing to do and Akaashi is very smart.

Usually.

Akaashi isn't really good at Math. He's better at English with all its rules that aren't really rules because he used to travel a lot when he was a kid. He's also great at the sciences, especially Biology that has a lot of big ideas and long words to remember and understand. Akaashi is good at understanding. But Akaashi has Math tests with red marks and little nicks at his fingertips from knives at Home Economics and he never really fully gets all the formulas for Physics.

Akaashi is usually smart but there are things Akaashi isn't really good at.

He also constantly overcharges his phone because he falls asleep with it plugged in, would do homework days before the deadline because he didn't list down when it was due, and took wonderful pictures without turning the shutter sound off.

So, while Akaashi is smart- the _smartest_ , even- Akaashi can be, occasionally, stupid and can do, occasionally, stupid things.

Like giving Koutarou a key to his apartment.

His unsupervised, one-bedroom apartment in the nice, quiet, secluded part of town, where his neighbor is one college student who's barely there to the left and an unoccupied apartment to the right because the old lady who used to live there moved out a few months back.

The apartment that Akaashi lives in alone because two grown adults both thought it was a good idea to leave their teenage son to fend for himself.

(Akaashi always says he's used to it, that his parents travel a lot because they're both Important Doctors Who Need To Be Everywhere and they didn't think it was fair to drag their son all over the world. They call every night, no matter what timezone, to check in and smother him as if they were there anyway. Akaashi always says it with a small smile. It's a pretty smile.)

Koutarou has seen it, on nights when practices go on for a little too long or overnight stays for training camps. Nine o'clock on the dot, in the middle of dinner with the team or during a perfect set in Fukurodani's empty gym, Akaashi's phone would ring.

Everyone ribs him every time it happens, yelling out _hellos_ and _how are you guys_ over Akaashi's exasperated sighs. Akaashi Keiko would laugh brightly and Akaashi Kenjirou would wave.

Akaashi Keiji looked a lot like his mom.

Keiko-san (as she demanded she be called after the confusion with "so many Akaashis") would check in on all of them, thanking them for taking care of "her baby" (No one has really let their Akaashi live that down) and Kenji-san would remind "their boy" of a hodge-podge of random things that would delight and mildly horrify everyone.

("And the plants, Keiji?"

"Yes, Otou-san."

"Have you been eating well?"

"Of course, Otou-san."

"Don't forget about the incident with the popsicles."

"You never let me forget about the incident with the popsicles."

"Well, it's because we never really found the body.")

And after about an hour of the annoying, endearing, embarrassing fussing only loving parents can provide, Akaashi's lovely Alphan mother, with her dark curly hair and soft green eyes, would titter a farewell. And Akaashi's Omegan father with his thick brows and stilted speech would call his mate "the light of their family", a warm look at the child they had together.

There would be stacks of papers behind them, whether the background would be a laboratory, a hotel room, or a tarp tent.

They would both say " _I love you, always_ " and the call would end.

Akaashi would smile brighter then, and it looked like his mother's.

So, at 10:00 PM on a school night, Koutarou thinks of all of this and thinks that Akaashi is really stupid and that Keiko-san and Kenji-san should have warned their Omegan son about giving the keys to an apartment where he lives alone to weird Alpha boys who can't stop thinking of dark curly hair and sharp green eyes and memories of the aroma of sweet mint trapped in the stale air of a gym.

Strange Alpha boys who should not be miles away from their dorm rooms when they have an 8:30 AM Developmental Psychology class for their Education degree.

Scary Alpha college boys with access to their high school Omega underclassmen who they haven't even remotely moved on from.

Dangerous Alpha college boys on the cusp of a regular, routine rut.

* * *

It took Koutarou a shameful amount of time to realize that tugging a few out every other day to the thought of his setter's long, slender fingers was probably an indication that his intentions with Akaashi were not exactly platonic.

Maybe even calling Akaashi " _his_ " should have been a blaring sign, too.

(Koutarou has smashed his forehead against the tiles of his college gym's communal shower a dozen times by now at the complete idiocy of Highschool Koutarou.)

If only Highschool Koutarou wasn't so dense.

But Highschool Koutarou had more important things he needed to do, like being an awesome ace, an inspiring captain, showing that mangy cat Kuroo that owls are the superior creature and are overall the awesomest.

High school Koutarou didn't wonder why he would take Akaashi's overnight bag and plop it on the futon next to his, as if sleeping next to him was a given.

He didn't mind Akaashi picking up his discarded varsity jacket and draping it over his own shoulders.

He didn't question the dreams where Akaashi wore his jersey and his kneepads but nothing else. Sometimes, he had the jacket on his shoulders.

He didn't think it was odd when he scented every one on the team, even managers, second string players, and Coach Yamiji, but lingered on Akaashi. A cursory snuggle with his team, but full-on rubbing his neck on his vice-captain's face. That everyone was _pack_ to Koutarou, and Akaashi was too but Akaashi was also not just _pack_.

So it was College Freshman Koutarou who had to be stunned with the realization that Akaashi wasn't just _pack_ to Koutarou because Akaashi was _mate._

It was College Freshman Koutarou who had snapped at Kuroo, his bro, his best friend, his roommate, because he had done the laundry and washed Koutarou's high school varsity jacket, now it smelled like lilacs and bleach instead of practice sweat and sweet mint.

It was College Freshman Koutarou who hooked up with the first girl who noticed him at their first college party. She had brown wavy hair and blue eyes but in the dim light of the frat house, her hair looked black and her eyes seemed green.

It was College Freshman Koutarou who curled tighter into himself as Third Year Akaashi's voice whispered through the phone, telling him about Third Year Chikara-kun from Karasuno and their new film project, clinging to the voice while vehemently spitting in his head _minemineminemine_.

And it is College Freshman Koutarou now who stands in front of Third Year Akaashi's lonely apartment with his absent neighbors and trusting parents, a key that had been entrusted to him in case of emergencies in one hand.

His thoughts keep jumping from mint to jackets to green. His breathing has been shallow the entire ride here, there's an ache somewhere either behind his ribs or low in his belly, and while Koutarou knows he should leave, that he should back off now while he hasn't done anything irreversible, the rut or his unresolved feelings urge him to unlock the door.

The door opens on its own.

"Bokuto-san? What are you doing here?"


	2. Staying In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keiji could smell Bokuto right outside his door.

Keiji could smell Bokuto right outside his door.

It's concerning. It's late and Bokuto should at least be in his dorm room. Keiji remembers he has a class at around 8 the next day.

But Bokuto is here. Which most likely means something is wrong.

Keiji had been surprised when something metallic drifted in the air. He had bid a hasty goodbye to his parents after they told him of a harrowing case of botulism they discussed during an educational seminar in New York, flinging a weak excuse about some assignment he had forgotten. They glanced at each other, they knew he was lying, but they let him go.

Bokuto had spent a good half hour just... standing there. There was a reason Keiji gave him a key.

He wasn't sure if he should let his former captain in or let him come inside on his own.

Keiji paces his room as the seconds tick by, the metal in the air growing stronger like blood in water. He can almost see gold dust floating.

The scent makes his glands ache but he keeps pulling and picking at his fingers. Why is Bokuto just standing there?

Keiji gives in. He always does when it comes to his captain.

"Bokuto-san? What are you doing here?"

Bokuto rushes in and Keiji is caught in a suffocating hold, the smell of smelting everywhere.

Bokuto has him snug underneath his chin, arms strapped around his body, and every little move Keiji makes has Bokuto squeezing tighter.

" _Keiji_..." Bokuto mutters into his hair.

It's a scene right out of a dream. Keiji is tempted to allow it, allow all of it, but Bokuto is here where he shouldn't be, hugging the life out of Keiji, scenting him like they haven't seen each other in weeks (which is sort of true) and something is very wrong.

"Hello, Bokuto-san. You're out late." Keiji tries to keep his voice level, as if this is a normal occurrence, wrestling his arm from Bokuto's grip and rubbing his wrist to Bokuto's temple. A thin sheen is smeared on Bokuto's skin. Scenting had always been a soothing gesture for their excitable Alphan ace, a surefire way to calm him.

Which is why the growl that erupts from Bokuto, sharp and warning, throws Keiji on edge. The confusion and instinctual anxiety reeks into his usual scent, turning the odor acrid.

Bokuto immediately tries to comfort him. It's in the way he frantically scrubs his neck on Keiji's cheek, his heavy hands rubbing his back gently. The glands on Bokuto's own wrists leak into Keiji's shirt and it makes Keiji feel lightheaded. It smells like a massacre or a gold rush.

 _"_ Don't do that. _"_ Koutarou mumbles into his ear.

Do what?

Keiji tries to shift, tries to leave his captain's arms and scent, hands pushing back against the Alpha's chest, a knee forcing back Bokuto's hips-

Bokuto's eyes are black. The pupils have engulfed his bright irises. His breathing is irregular, sharp teeth glinting with saliva and ready to sink into flesh, his wrists are still leaking and Bokuto's neck is dripping.

Rut.

Bokuto is pre-rutting.

The realization makes Keiji quietly panic.

Keiji does not say it often enough, but he trusts Bokuto. He may not trust Bokuto with his English homework, or not to eat Keiji's share of cake on team outings, or not to snoop on Keiji's phone when he found out Keiji was "fraternizing with the enemy" by texting Chikara, but he trusts Bokuto to break through, to stand again, to push forward. He would trust Bokuto with his life. He trusts Bokuto with everything that's important.

But this boy is not Bokuto.

And an unmated Omega with a virile young Alpha in pre-rut, hormones and pheromones yet to stabilize...

It won't end well.

He's learned about this in the school-mandated Secondary Sex Education classes they've taken since the third year of middle school when most people begin to present, separate from the Primary Sex Education that people take in their first year. Keiji was extensively lectured both in class and by his Omegan father behind closed doors, when he presented as Omegan at 13, and while he is well-versed in his own secondary sex, he is just as well-read on others'.

It's part of being class representative of a large class and later on, vice-captain of a diverse team. Especially vice-captain to a rowdy Alphan boy who's forgetful and impatient and utterly impossible.

And now as an Omegan captain to an entire group of rowdy, forgetful, impatient, impossible, confused, adjusting baby Alphas, Betas, and Omegas (bless Onaga, though), it would be irresponsible and disastrous for Keiji to not have a supply of generic brand Alphan and Omegan suppresants in his first aid kit, among other things like scent neutralisers, anti-scent soap, and anti-pheromone patches.

He needs to get to his room, get his backpack where the kit is.

Keiji struggles in Bokuto's hold. Generic brand, over-the-counter suppressants work for the most part but depending on the person's body chemistry and metabolism, they can burn out at various, unpredictable rates.

They're usually used by the newly-presented who have yet to see a specialist about medication.

Or emergency situations.

Like an irregular rut.

Bokuto won't let go.

"Bokuto-san-"

"I really needed to see you."

"Bokuto-san, I have some medicine you can take-"

"I really, really needed to see you."

"It will have to do, you're pre-rutting, we have to-"

"I missed you a lot, you know?"

Keiji swallows. He's missed Bokuto, too. And it's tempting to be held like this, to let the panic peak and let things be, let Bokuto take this wherever it goes, Keiji wouldn't really mind, he would follow Bokuto anywhere anyway.

But this isn't the Bokuto that Keiji knows. This is a boy warped by need and will do anything to be satisfied. The Bokuto that Keiji knows will eventually return. The Bokuto that Keiji knows would be horrified.

This is not a post-graduation love confession in the moonlight like Keiji may have secretly hoped for. This is a boy on the precipice of adulthood, and in fear and hazy confusion so much confusion, retreated to something, to someone, familiar.

It's a sort of tragic. He hurts for Bokuto as if they were already bonded.

Wrangling his other arm out of the vice grip on his body, Keiji pressed both his damp wrists to Bokuto's heated cheeks.

"Alpha, please look at me." Keiji whispers. If right now, Bokuto sees Keiji as Omega, as a potential mate at least for this rut, in the mid-stages of pre-rut where he isn't mindless yet but pliant, Keiji has to play that to his advantage. If it hurts to be seen as convenient and familiar rather than _one_ and _only_ and _most_ and _best,_ then Keiji can hurt later when they've managed to salvage their friendship.

* * *

"Alpha, please look at me."

The pleasure that ripples through Koutarou is overwhelming.

Akaashi smells like a fantasy, his scent streaked on Koutarou's skin, searing into his bones.

Akaashi's scent, Akaashi's voice, hands on his face, long slender fingers, Alpha, please look at me.

As if Koutarou would ever look anywhere else.

_Please, call me Koutarou._

* * *

Bokuto blinks at Keiji, there but not fully there.

Good enough.

"Follow me."


	3. Spend The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Koutarou shouldn't be here.
> 
> (Koutarou should leave.)

Pre-rut.

Koutarou was in pre-rut.

Simply put, Koutarou had forgotten to take his suppressants regularly. Not every day, but enough doses to allow a pre-rut to occur.

The long story is that the transition from a highschool student to a young adult in university had been shocking. Classes were different and difficult and exciting, volleyball felt like starting from the very beginning when he couldn't hit worth shit and was always cast aside, everything was changing and new and so, so different.

Around 59% of college freshmen go into unplanned heats and ruts from the stress and the pressure. Around a third of these cases are related to suppressant neglect.

Which was what lead Koutarou to Akaashi's door, the power of Akaashi's spare key in his hand to do with as he pleased. It made sense that his base instincts would lead him back to his setter.

"Follow me."

Koutarou shouldn't be here. He came here with the intention of- something. Something not good. What could Akaashi be thinking right now? A troublesome upperclassman he thought he had gotten rid of shows up on his doorstep near midnight on a schoolnight, on the verge of a rut. What could that possibly have looked like?

(Keiji pulls away.)

It made Koutarou feel like pervert. A sleazy Alpha like the ones you watch on afternoon soap operas who only want to take advantage of the starring Omega.

Forget about mates, Akaashi shouldn't even be friends with him anymore. Friends would have better self-control. Friends wouldn't be so recklessly thoughtless that they would forgot their suppressants, and friends wouldn't be so insensitive and selfish that they would impose on someone to take care of them because of their stupid mistakes, to force them to deal with their unresolved feelings.

(Keiji's hand on Koutarou's wrist.)

Koutarou should leave. He should break loose, apologize, and leave. He could make Kuroo lock his door from the outside to keep Koutarou in, then he'd have to ride out this ill-timed rut on his own (green eyes, dark hair, crushed mint, limes). Feelings and instincts be damned, it isn't Akaashi's responsibility anymore.

( _Follow me_.)

But deeper into the apartment, the smell of mint and citrus, potent and fresh, was tempting. Fingers on his wrist. Koutarou licked his teeth, trying to get a taste, trying not to _bite_.

(Keiji closes the door. Click. No, don't. You're not safe.)

He's only ever been in Akaashi's bedroom a few times. To grab a book Akaashi forgot on his desk, to study for a big exam before a weekend training camp or inter-school practice match, or that one time Akaashi had gotten sick enough that he couldn't drag himself out of bed. Akaashi had worried him a lot that day. The room had smelled sick, squishy rotting oranges and leaves in a compost pit.

But not tonight. Tonight, it smelled divine.

(I want you.)

There's still the same double bed, the same desk with a single lamp and neatly stacked textbooks and novels. On the desk is Akaashi's backpack. Akaashi lets him go and walks over to it.

Koutarou wanted to roll on the hard wood floor. It smelled like Akaashi everywhere, steeped into the air, seeping into the floorboards, coated on the walls. He took a deep breath and held it in.

Then choked it back out.

It tasted wrong.

Which is absolutely dumb because it's Akaashi and while Akaashi can be a little thoughtless on rare times, Akaashi is Akaashi and Akaashi is never wrong. (He's right. It's him. Him and only him and him alone.)

Koutarou sticks his tongue out as if he was trying to catch snowflakes.

He recoils as if a dusting of ash from a volcano instead touched his tongue.

Beta.

Others were here.

(Who are they, mate?)

* * *

Bokuto stands in the center of the room, silent and dazed.

Keiji will take what he can get, given the small whines Bokuto kept making as Keiji coaxed Bokuto into his room. Keiji had been half-convinced Bokuto would bolt, where he wasn't sure. Outside in his state would be a disaster. Further inside, with his current condition-

_Isn't that what you wanted?_

No. He needs Bokuto here so he can shove pills down his captain's (former captain, he isn't anymore) throat and make him sleep all this off. Hopefully by morning, Bokuto would be Bokuto again and not a half-minded Alpha seeking a fuck. Bokuto would apologize profusely, sheepishly laugh, Keiji would say it was all right, no damage done, with a reminder to take his medication on time. Bokuto would then be off, back to his glamorous life as a university student (and to take his actual suppressants before the drugstore ones burn off) and Keiji would return to his quiet acceptance of their inevitable drift.

(Gold. Eyes. Scent. Precious. Covet.)

Keiji takes out the kit from his backpack and rummages for the pills as well as the bottle of water he keeps on his study desk.

Bokuto's scent is everywhere, stronger than the lingering aroma he would leave behind whenever he dropped in. It would stay for days after Bokuto goes.

It mingles teasingly with Keiji's own scent, transforming what was once average and ordinary into something that tingles under Keiji's skin. His neck aches. He wipes his wrists on his pajamas.

Maybe Keiji should take a dose out of his own stash for himself.

"You smell nice."

Bokuto is right behind him.

Bokuto is a loud person. He's exuberant and enthusiastic about nearly everything. He cheers, he screams, he fucking snores.

But that doesn't mean Bokuto can't be stealthy when needed. Past prank wars with Nekoma have proven so.

A sharp weight digs into Keiji's shoulder. Bokuto tips his head from where he has rested his chin, placing his temple against Keiji's.

"You always smell nice."

Keiji thinks of smelting. Of blood in the ocean. Of gold rushes. No, you do.

Bokuto noses at his hairline.

* * *

There's a faint hint of Betain.

A little Alphan. Some Omegan.

Omegan scents are usually soft. Sweet. Flowers and fruits and herbs.

Alphan scents are generally earthier. Like the moments before a grand deluge or the aftermath of a forest fire.

Betain scents are difficult to pinpoint. They're best described as mild. Konoha had smelled liked sandalwood. Betain scents are subtler rather than overpowering or enrapturing. But they are present.

It's funny that that one Betain scent was most consistent of all.

Like paper. It smelled like a library.

Akaashi smells like someone grew a windowsill garden in a study.

"Did you go to a library recently, Akaashi?"

It would make sense, Koutarou reasons more for his sake than anyone else's. Akaashi likes quiet places. Akaashi likes books.

It doesn't mean anything.

Besides, there are platonic reasons to smell like someone else.

It doesn't mean anything.

"No, Bokuto-san."

_It doesn't mean anything._

"Why do you ask?"

_Because you smell like someone held you in my place._

"You smell different. Your entire room does."

Akaashi turns around, shrugging Koutarou off in the process. There's a pill bottle in his hand.

"Sometimes, I have a few friends over. Yahaba-kun and Terushima-san to name some."

Akaashi tries to open the tight lid.

"Chikara-kun sleeps over some times, too.  
Most likely that's why everything smells a little different."

The lid pops off.

* * *

"Most likely that's why everything smells a little different."

His friends' scents comfort him. Fellow Omegan scents like Yahaba's and Kenma's are calming though there's a tinge of amusement since they also smell like Kyoutani and Kuroo. It's nice to know things are working out for them.

He also appreciates Terushima lending him shirts and hoodies for his nest. Familial Alphan odors can be just as calming during heats.

The best is Chikara's though. It felt like immersing yourself in a good story.

The lid finally pops off.

"There. Please take this, Bokuto-san. It'll help you feel better-"

Keiji lets out a startled yelp as he's crowded into and up onto the desk. In a panicked flurry, he latches his hands on Bokuto's shoulders.

"What-"

Bokuto nips at his earlobe.

"Bokuto-san-!"

Gold has reverted into coal in those eyes of his. Bokuto is skimming one sharp tooth along the bone of Keiji's jaw. He tries not to shiver.

It's good. Keiji would be lying if he said slick didn't dribble into his boxers while Bokuto touched him like he was desperate to have Keiji in any way possible.

Butthisisn'tBokuto.

Bokuto's mouth wanders terrifyingly close to the raw scent glands trembling within his neck.

Keiji clamps down hard on both sides with his hands. He will not be Bokuto's rut-blackout mistake.

But Bokuto travels back to his ear and whispers in a voice that would make him believe it wouldn't be so bad.

" _Kiss me._ "


	4. Overnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's a direct order.
> 
> "Kiss me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 331 and 332 SLAMMED us.

It's a direct order.

"Kiss me."

Even if it wasn't, even if it wasn't from an Alpha, as long as it came from Bokuto, Keiji would have found it difficult to refuse.

Keiji almost drops his hands into his lap. For a second, his grip on his neck slackens. The scent in the room reads displeased and it has simply been Keiji's nature to soothe, even if he hadn't been Omegan. It will always be his priority to take care of Bokuto.

But this isn't Bokuto.

The Alpha falls on his shoulder and nudges insistently at the fingers Keiji has hooked into his nape, the palms covering the area he's most vulnerable. He whines when Keiji presses harder on his own glands.

Bokuto would never order him.

Keiji shuts his eyes. The cloying scent in the room, the feeling of being caged in, arms on either side keeping him in place, Bokuto's nose tracing his jaw, pushing at his fingers.

"Just one more, please, Akaashi?"

Keiji's eyes fly open.

* * *

Akaashi had kissed him before. Once.

In the aftermath of a gruelling, vicious practice match with Nekoma, Koutarou bathing in the praise of his teammates as they all helped clean up.

Akaashi hadn't been next to him mopping, or putting away balls with Konoha and Komi. Koutarou knew where Akaashi was, of course. He always knew.

_("You seriously didn't realize even then, Bo?" Kuroo cackles over a stale beer in the living room of their apartment, smelling like sugar-stewed apples.)_

Akaashi was with Kuroo.

It was always a riot whenever Akaashi and Kuroo were together in any space. They said a lot of mean things that don't sound mean right then but really are when you think about it later on the ride home.

Normally, Bokuto got antsy whenever their setter wasn't within sight. Even taking suppressants and showering with a strong grade of medical anti-scent soap, scents were just a thing that can't fully, completely be concealed. It wouldn't be the first time some blockhead Alpha or jerk Beta or just a plain asshole would think it was okay to mess with an Omega who's alone.

But Kuroo was around, so it was okay. Besides, Kuroo had Kenma. Akaashi was safe.

So Bokuto continued to ramble on about a vague, off-tangent side-story connected to something he felt strongly about thirty minutes ago without much worry. Akaashi was just in the corner of his eye after all.

( _"You are so dumb, you stupid owl."_

 _"Shut up, mangy cat."_ )

"Bo! Come over here!"

"Kuroo-san, don't you dare-"

Koutarou was there in an instant.

"Hey, hey, hey! What you need me for?"

Kuroo and Akaashi glanced at each other.

It was one of those looks they had. The one where Kuroo knew he was pushing and Akaashi wanted to push back just as hard if not harder.

But Akaashi slumped and stepped forward.

Koutarou raised an eyebrow, eying Kuroo with a suspicious pout.

"Hey, hey, hey, Akaashi? Is this stupid cat bothering you? I can-"

Akaashi reached up, placed a hand on his shoulder, and pulled down.

The kiss was light, a little damp from a post-victory drink and top lip sweat. Koutarou barely felt it.

Akaashi pulled away and stepped back. He wouldn't look at him, eyes hidden by sweat-drenched fringe. The shells of his ears were pink.

"Kuroo-san made me do it."

He was gone, off to Onaga and one of the smiley Nekoma players putting away the net.

Kuroo gave him a slap on the back and a wink.

Koutarou smelled like mint for three days.

* * *

He's using that voice.

_One more toss, Akaashi!_

* * *

They have been taught about how important scent glands are and that you should never touch someone else's without permission. It's one of the most basic social protocols pups learn.

Scent glands are located in several places, some more accesible, others in more intimate places.

There are the glands in one's neck, in their wrists, along the ankles, within the inner thighs, on temples and inside the cheeks, even near the armpits.

Families usually greet each other with bumps on the cheeks. Friends would touch wrists. Mothers cradle their pups under their chins while the little ones rub their small faces into their mothers' necks.

Nekoma favored cheeks, soft pinches and bumps before and after games. Karasuno is made of huggers, head-patters, and hair-rufflers. Jouhzenji players get shoved into each other's pits.

Fukurodani has always nosed on the neck.

These are only examples of how loved ones, teammates, friends, rivals, and people in general interact using scent.

However, short of direct stimulation of any of the scent glands, mating, or a bond mark, a kiss is the most effective way of marking a person.

* * *

He's using that voice.

_One more, Akaashi. One more._

Keiji swallows around the sudden obstruction in his throat. He wants this. He always has. He would never not want this, having Bokuto here, having Bokuto close, smothered against his skin and drenched in his scent. Ever since the first day, when a boy like a shooting star tore through a small gym. A temporary stage for a protagonist of the world.

A star with greater things waiting for him after tonight, when the vastness of everything he has to obtain made him falter.

_Oh, sunshine. I'm so sorry._

Greater things than a lost boy who had followed in the wake of his dust.

Slowly, he pulls his hands off his neck and rests both wrists on the cheekbones of Bokuto's face.

_When have I ever denied you anything?_

* * *

Koutarou lifts himself from the sweet crease of Akaashi's neck, where beads of his scent pooled in his collarbone.

They're close. Much closer than they have ever been as teammates, as friends, as partners.Nose to nose, brow to brow, Akaashi's wrists on his cheeks, his thumbs on Akaashi's hips.

But it still isn't enough.

Akaashi's scenting him like pack, just like he did as his vice captain when he had a slump or as his schoolmate when he failed a test. His delicate wrists rubbing on his face, covering him in a balm of mint.

So achingly unlike how Koutarou has always scented him, with his neck exposed to Keiji's teeth, dousing him in a mist of gold.

The careful movements of Akaashi's wrists make rough chirps burble in his throat. Koutarou didn't want to be scented like pack anymore.

Then Akaashi kisses him.

* * *

A peck to the forehead.

One on the nose. Another on a cheek.

Two on the chin. Three in the temple.

Five on the shell of each ear, with another extra on each earlobe.

One under a shining eye. One on the eyelid of the other.

One on the space between the nostrils and the top lip.

* * *

A flurry of kisses, one after the other, each as fleeting and momentous as a flash of light.

They happen in rapid succession, bright little bursts of warmth that faded just as fast.

Delectable.

Koutarou could barely keep up.

He would move the split second after one kiss only to be blindsided by another, trying valiantly but fruitlessly to catch Akaashi's mouth as it fluttered off somewhere else.

He felt desperately teased, like the perfect spike being dangled just barely out his reach. A row of blockers during match point. One right answer away from a passing grade. A beautiful boy like a dream and a wish and a prayer undressing right in front of his eyes and redressed in the seconds it took for him to blink.

When he feels Akaashi's damp, chapped lips flitting in the space of his ear and his hair, Koutarou rips Akaashi's wrists from his face, one in each hand, a tight grip on both.

Then as slowly as he can, he runs the flat of his tongue on one of Akaashi's wrist glands.

_Delectable._

* * *

Keiji's spine tingles with every pass of Bokuto's tongue.

How the thick wet muscle that facilitates Bokuto's incessant babbling, his hoots of victory, every whine and groan, is now in contact with Keiji's skin, digging into the valleys of his tendons and tracing his veins.

He shifts, refusing to acknowledge the slight squelch in his boxers. He had been naked in a tiny changing room with this man, resisting should be easy. Keiji will not present himself on his own desk like an Omega in heat.

And he wouldn't if Bokuto would just _stop_. Stop prodding at his wrist glands with the tip of his tongue, stop the content purrs rolling on Keiji's palm and the hot huffs breathed on his fingers. Stop licking him like they were mates and he was proposing a bond.

Bokuto slides his eyes open, half-mast and heavy as if drunk. Gold on Keiji. Under a spotlight. A captain on the verge of victory.

"A proper kiss, Akaashi."

_You don't really want this, Bokuto-san._

Think, Keiji.

_But I do._

* * *

Akaashi twists his hand out of Koutarou's hold, slamming the palm on the table and clutching hard at the wood.

Then he brings the hand to cover his mouth.

"You don't really want this, Bokuto-san."

_But I **do.**_

_I want you._

_From the very first time I heard your name._

_I always wanted you._

"I do, Akaashi."

_I shouldn't have come, but I did._

_I've missed you._

_I want you._

_I want you to smell like me. I want my mark on your neck and yours on mine. I want your Chikara to know you're mine. Please. Be mine._

Slowly, Akaashi uncovers his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kuroo smells like apples because he already bonded with Kenma.
> 
> And I'm not sure if I stressed this enough, but Bo's still got to take his meds. Please don't do any hanky panky spanky things without clear consent. If the person's state of mind is compromised in any way, consent will be difficult to assure. Stay safe.

**Author's Note:**

> If my sister finds this, I'm sorry.


End file.
